THE RING.1

A TALE.

Annulus ille viri,—Ovid. Amor. lib. ii. eleg. 15.

THE happy day at length arrived
When Rupert was to wed
The fairest maid in Saxony,

And take her to his bed.

As soon as morn was in the sky,
The feast and sports began;
The men admired the happy maid,
The maids the happy man.

In many a sweet device of mirth
The day was passed along;
And some the featly dance amused,
And some the dulcet song.
The younger maids with Isabel

Disported through the bowers,
And decked her robe, and crowned her

head

With motley bridal flowers.
The matrons all in rich attire,
Within the castle walls,
Sat listening to the choral strains
That echoed through the halls.
Young Rupert and his friends repaired
Unto a spacious court,
To strike the bounding tennis-ball
In feat and manly sport.
The bridegroom on his finger had
The wedding-ring so bright,
Which was to grace the lily hand
Of Isabel that night.

And fearing he might break the gem,
Or lose it in the play,
He looked around the court, to see
Where he the ring might lay.
Now in the court a statue stood,
Which there full long had been ;
It was a heathen goddess, or
Perhaps a heathen queen.

1 I should be sorry to think that my friend had any serious intentions of frightening the nursery by this story: I rather hope-though the manner of it leads me to doubt-that his design was to ridicule that di-tempered taste which prefers those monsters of the fancy to the speciosa miracula' of true poetic imagination.

mean

So very strange a thing!

The feast was o'er, and to the court
He went without delay,
Resolved to break the marble hand,
And force the ring away!

But mark a stranger wonder still-
The ring was there no more;
Yet was the marble hand ungrasped,
And open as before!

He searched the base, and all the court,
And nothing could he find,
But to the castle did return
With sore bewildered mind
Within he found them all in mirth,
The night in dancing flew;
The youth another ring procured,
And none the adventure knew.

I find, by a note in the manuscript, that he met with this story in a German author, Fromman upon Fascination, book iii. part vi. chap. 18. On consulting the work, I perceive that Fromman quotes it from Beluacensis, among many other stories equally diabolical and inte resting.

hands,

The hours of love advance ! Rupert almost forgets to think Upon the morn's mischance.

Within the bed fair Isabel

In blushing sweetness lay,

Cold-chilling by his side,

And strained him with such deadly

grasp,

He thought he should have died!

But when the dawn of day was near, The horrid phantom fled,

And waiting for the day.

And Rupert, by her lovely side,
In youthful beauty glows,

Like Phoebus, when he bends to cast
His beams upon a rose !

And here my song should leave them both,

Nor let the rest be told,
But for the horrid, horrid tale
It yet has to unfold!

Soon Rupert, 'twixt his bride and him,
A death-cold carcase found;
He saw it not, but thought he felt
Its arms embrace him round.

He started up, and then returned,

But found the phantom still; In vain he shrunk, it clipped him round, With damp and deadly chill!

And when he bent, the earthy lips

A kiss of horror gave;

'Twas like the smell from charnel vaults, Or from the mouldering grave! Ill-fated Rupert, wild and loud

Thou criedst to thy wife,

'Oh! save me from this horrid fiend, My Isabel! my life!'

But Isabel had nothing seen,

She looked around in vain ;

And much she mourned the mad conceit

That racked her Rupert's brain. At length from this invisible

These words to Rupert came; (Oh God! while he did hear the words, What terrors shook his frame !)

'Husband! husband! I've the ring
Thou gav'st to-day to me;
And thou'rt to me for ever wed,
As I am wed to thee !'

By Isabel in bed.

All, all that day a gloomy cloud
Was seen on Rupert's brows;
Fair Isabel was likewise sad,

But strove to cheer her spouse.

And, as the day advanced, he thought
Of coming night with fear :
Ah! that he must with terror view
The bed that should be dear!

At length the second night arrived

Again their couch they pressed;
Poor Rupert hoped that all was o'er,
And looked for love and rest.

But oh! when midnight came, again
The fiend was at his side,
And, as it strained him in its grasp,
With howl exulting cried,—
'Husband! husband! I've the ring,
The ring thou gav'st to me;
And thou'rt to me for ever wed,
As I am wed to thee !'

In agony of wild despair,

He started from the bed;
And thus to his bewildered wife
The trembling Rupert said:

'Oh Isabel! dost thou not see
A shape of horrors here,
That strains me to the deadly kiss,
And keeps me from my dear?'

'No, no, my love! my Rupert, I

No shape of horrors see;
And much I mourn the phantasy

That keeps my dear from me!'

This night, just like the night before,
In terrors passed away,
Nor did the demon vanish thence
Before the dawn of day.